


and they were roommates (omg they were roommates)

by JupiterJoon



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Blow Jobs, Consensual, Degradation, Denial, Dom Min Yoongi | Suga, Drinking, F/M, Face-Fucking, Facials, Fingerfucking, Hair-pulling, Light Angst, Masturbation, Min Yoongi | Suga Is a Little Shit, Name-Calling, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex Toys, Some Plot, Swearing, Verbal Humiliation, inexperienced dom/sub interactions, mentions of other members - Freeform, minor kim taehyung/reader, the title is a vine but this is not a crack fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2020-12-27 07:07:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21114749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JupiterJoon/pseuds/JupiterJoon
Summary: “But you-” you can’t even get a word out before Yoongi pops his thumb in your mouth, holding your tongue down. Your jaw slackens at the taste, salty yet bitter from the tobacco.“You sure know how to ruin a good thing, don’t you?” Yoongi’s head cocks to his other shoulder, his body moving the slightest bit closer to you. His thumb rubs circles against your taste buds. Your fingers mimic the motion, wishing they were his.And he knows you’re wishing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hey I'm finally writing smut that doesn't involve blowjobs

Taehyung’s mouth is sticky with the taste of his last cocktail.  Your arms lazily twine over his shoulders as you both bounce to the beat, lips bruised from trading love bites. His hands rest on your hips to keep himself balanced as the song encourages you to grind a little too far left and right. Your tongue twirls with his as you deepen the kiss. Even though the bass pulses through your body, you can feel Taehyung’s lips vibrate with a deep groan when you suck lightly on his tongue.

Neither of you are drunk. You both don’t prefer the briny taste of liquor. You’d been sipping lazily on your alcohol-free drinks.

The other half of your party, however, downed shot after shot, beer after beer. You watched Yoongi’s smile get sloppier, leaning onto an energetic Hoseok who had demanded you all make your way to the dance floor.

You don’t mind. Here on the floor, the energy of everyone around you makes you feel a little buzzed. And that’s how you and Taehyung ended up chest to chest, nibbling on his bottom lip and watching his cheeks tug into a smile. 

He leans back, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he gets a good look at you.  He brushes strands of hair from your face and you giggle. His boxy grin shines back, and you almost pull away, remembering the sweet bo y you are taking advantage of. 

But you see the mischief in his eyes, the same reflected in yours, as he looks over your shoulder. You follow his gaze, turning in his arms. As the green and yellow strobe lights dance across the crowd, you see Jungkook at the bar. He’s leaning forward, jaw dropped, drink seconds from slipping out of his hand. His eyes dart away when he’s caught staring.

And not far from him is Yoongi,  eyes cold as he takes a hefty swig from his beer.

Taehyung’s warm hand wraps around your throat,  other around your waist. Tilting your head, his lips glide over your neck, drinking up your scent and the sweat glistening on your skin. Your mouth drops as he nibbles at a particularly sensitive spot. You had no reason to think you were taking advantage of him by being the only one having fun. Taehyung enjoys playing the part and all the rewards that come with it.

As though to prove you right, he spins you to face him and weaves his fingers through your sweaty hair. A t this point, you aren’t even dancing anymore.  His lips mold to yours once more. Your hands trail from his shoulders down to his waist, and a slight shiver runs through his body as your fingers dip into his waistband, pulling him even closer. 

“Nice,” his deep timbre coasts under the music.  You giggle and grind into him, rolling your body. He grips your ass and helps you roll again and again.  His hand pulls on your elbow, and you can’t figure out how he both pulls you closer and tugs you away until--

You are pulled from his grasp completely.

The force of the yank swings you around to face Yoongi. His eyes and furrowed brow tell you he’s annoyed, but his expression is too glazed over with alcohol.

“The fuck are you doing…?” His hand on your arm is tight but heavy, almost pulling you towards the floor. Your other arm still grips Taehyung’s shoulder for fear of falling over.

“Can you not tell?” You shout back over the music, looking back at Taehyung with a smile. 

But Taehyung’s smile is sheepish, hands waving in front of him. The mood’s been disenchanted and he doesn’t want to get in the middle of this.

“Oops,” he mouths at you, winking, and heads to the bar.

“Hey,” Yoongi shakes your arm and you turn back, more than a little peeved. “Why you gotta make out with my friends whenever I bring you out?”

“Bring me out?” You repeat, leaning closer into his space to make sure you are hearing him correctly. “What am I, your pet?”

Granted, Yoongi had told you to be careful this time. Last time had been Jimin. It hadn’t left any weird awkwardness in the group, but it was a little embarrassing the next time you saw him.  But this time wasn’t your fault.  Taehyung had been flirting with you. You knew he was down for some fun, and you had your own reasons to need a distraction. Like the reason latched onto your arm.

“No,” Yoongi grumbles back. Or at least, you assume that’s what he said. You saw his mouth shape into a pouty “oh” rather than actually heard him. 

“Whatever,” he drops your arm, crossing his own over his chest. It’s a ridiculous pose to strike in the middle of the dance floor, but you’re distracted by the way the bottoms of his biceps peek out from beneath his shirt. “Just, can you not each time we go out?”

“Why, you don’t want to be next?” The words fell off your tongue as a joke, but there’s a real hope in them that you hope he can’t hear. You already know the answer. He said no before.

Well, not directly. He’d made it clear enough through the way he avoided you, kept his distance, kept the talking minimal. You don’t know what you’d done over the last week to upset him so much, but at this point, you just wanted to push him to the point of making him explode. Thus, the escapades with his friends.

It isn’t working, but at least you are all having fun.

Well, you are at least.

“Stop that,” Yoongi drops your arm and makes to leave. This time, you grab his arm.

“No, you stop it. Tell me what’s wrong,” you shout, but it comes out a little too loud as the song changes over from the sensual beat you and Taehyung had enjoyed to a slower and romantic R&B tune.

Yoongi glares at you, shoulders hunching up farther in his black shirt that looks obnoxiously good on him with his newly-dyed black hair. He steps back towards you, one stride closing the space between you as bodies start to sway.

“Don’t make me do this here,” is all he says and heads back to the bar.  You see him plop down next to Namjoon and Jin, and there’s no way this is going to continue with their dynamic duo vibes. You’re left alone on the dance floor.

With a text to the group that you are heading home, you weave through couples to the entrance of the club. You grumble a "thanks" as you get your stuff from coat check and step out onto the street.

It’s a soft Spring night, and the cool breeze only sends a light shiver over your exposed, sweaty skin. You run your hand over your lips, remembering Taehyung’s own there earlier. He’d been an amazing kisser, completely into the part. In fact, you feel bummed you’d been interrupted. Pissed, even.

As if on queue, your phone sounds with Taehyung’s text notification. Expecting a frowny face at your departure, you’re surprised to see a message in a private chat. 

A thumbs-up, followed by  _ Thanks! _

Well, at least someone had gotten something out of your makeout session. You shove the phone back in your pocket.

You dodge between people milling down the sidewalk. Your apartment isn’t too far.  The new place conveniently sat two blocks off the main street. Something you’re grateful for now that you ditched everyone you went out with.

When you reach your building, you trudge up the stairs, smack your keycard on the ID reader, and slam the door behind you. You shuck off your shoes, taking solace in the way they bang into the wall. You make quick work of your bedtime routine, ripping your dress over your head then shoving your toothbrush in and out of your mouth.

Since you just moved, you didn’t have much in your room and still slept on an extra futon your roommate had lying around. You shimmy into your makeshift bed with a sigh of defeat, thinking of how much fun Taehyung must be having now. You remember the way Jungkook had looked at you two, while Yoongi lounged on his barstool, eyes cold.

Damn, even apathetic, Yoongi still looked hot.  The way he tended to sit with his legs spread, ready for you to sit in his lap. The pout on his lips that begged to be kissed better.

“Shit,” you groan, running your hands through your hair. 

You’d been left on edge after Taehyung.

Then cut off abruptly by the one person you really wanted to be kissing, who’d shot you down weeks before. 

But your body doesn’t care. Images of Yoongi flash through your mind, his scolding countenance or soft, gummy smile. How good he looked in that fit tonight.

You tuck your feet in, knees tenting the blanket. Your hands rub between the rough fabric and the worn, comfortable material of your pajamas. In your mind, it’s his hands . Veins wrapped over muscle under silky skin. Rough fingertips you’ve only brushed against now firm on your stomach. You dig your fingers under the waistband of your underwear.

“Yoongi,” the sound hushes passed your lips, trying to speak the mirage into reality.

As you dip into your folds, you imagine it’s his fingers spreading you apart, rubbing the slick around your clit. You bite your lip. Would you be able to feel his knuckles whenever his fingers dipped inside you? Would he tease you, or rub hard just where you need it?

You drop your knees wider, but your hand is restricted by the waistband.  With a huff, you tug the fabric under your ass with your free hand. With the spell momentarily broken, you feel around for the nightstand, one of the only pieces of furniture you’ve added to your new home. Trying your best to open the drawer without sitting up, your hand gropes for the vibrator.

Once in hand, you click the button on the back and settle in. You tease the small bullet down your body as your mind wanders again. As the cool silicone skates over a nipple, your chest lurches. Does Yoongi like toys? Would he tell you to take out the vibrator and give it to him? Or would he want to watch what you like? As the tips of your fingers start to numb a bit, it’s easier to imagine that it’s Yoongi ghosting the small vibrator in between your breasts then down your sides. It skirts across your hip bones where your other hand still lays.

“Yoongi,” you breathe again as you trace the bullet along your inner thighs.  He would tease you. He’d wait for you to say what you wanted yourself.

_ Click _ .

You snap the vibrator off immediately. The click is followed by the creaking of a door. You hold your breath, still under your futon as light bursts through the crack in the door. Footsteps are heard before they cast three or four shadows. Your roommate is home.

You don’t dare move. You have no idea if your roommate had heard you or the vibrator. Both of your rooms connect to the small, adjoined living room kitchen, and your door is right next to the entrance. The blush already on your cheeks reddens at the thought. Maybe they should hear you.

But minutes pass. Your roommate doesn’t knock. The footsteps wander in the kitchen before you hear a door click again.

Their room. You release the breath you’d been holding.

Waiting a few more minutes, you debate going to bed. Now it seems too dangerous. The walls in this place are paper-thin, and you… well… you’re too worked up to guarantee you won’t get caught.

But you can’t sleep now.

You’re too worked up. And as you think of why it only turns you on again. Yoongi’s glare as your hands fisted in Taehyung’s hair. His blatant facade of disregard followed by that merciless grip on your arm as he yanked you towards him. Your mind wanders to that grip pinning you down to the floor of your bedroom.

You turn on the vibrator again to test the volume. Under the sheets, it wasn’t too loud. With two doors in between, you’d be fine.

Giving in, you suck in a breath, bottom lip between your teeth as you trace the bullet through your folds, circling around your clit.

“Fuck,” you huff to yourself, fingers working at a quick pace. You can only imagine how quick Yoongi’s fingers might move, if it’s anything like his tongue. You know he wouldn’t hesitate to slide his tongue into your mouth, the way it comes out to greet any bottle, glass, or food. You’d be his meal, feeling the muscle soft and wet against you-

Light.

A sobering light splashes into your room. It’s not from under the door this time. It’s a vertical, terrifying divide that cuts across your futon.

Your mind blanks. Thankfully, your fumbling fingers snap the vibrator off. But you’re unable to contain your shocked gasp as you stare up at the intruder, wide-eyed, hand still between your legs.

It’s your roommate. He’s swung the door open a bit, slouched against the frame with his arms crossed. As your eyes adjust to the light, you can only make out his form. There’s no one else that could be here.

It’s your roommate.

He stares down at you, eyes skirting across the scene. Your mouth bobs like a fish as your vision adjusts.

“I heard you calling,” he says.

You can hear the smirk on his lips.

“Y-” Your voice cracks from being both elated and terrified.

“Yoongi.”

“Yep, that’s what you’ve been saying,”  Yoongi rolls off the doorframe . The object of your fantasies makes his way to your bedside while you remain motionless.

You have no idea what to say.

Yoongi settles down next to you on the floor, one leg propped, weight resting on his hand. He cocks his head onto his shoulder.

“Nothing to say now?”

Your mouth finally snaps shut and you manage an indignant glare. As the door starts to close again, your eyes readjust to the darkness. He’s in the same black T-shirt, hair scattered across his forehead.

And boxers.

You try to keep your eyes from hanging too long, hoping he won’t notice in the dim lighting.

“You seemed to be calling me…” Yoongi hums. “Wanting me to come in… Needing me…” He chuckles to himself.

“ _ Yoongi _ ,” you hiss in embarrassment.

“I like that. Say it again.”

You gaze up at him. Despite the sheet thrown over you, you feel exposed due to what’s underneath. Yoongi’s eyes dart down when your legs twitch as you contemplate what to do, and part of you fears he can see right through the thin fabric.

“Yoongi,” the word’s thick in your mouth with uneven breaths.

Yoongi hums again, eyes closed. When he opens them, his expression is hungry. Eyes hooded, lips parted, he reaches for the top of the comforter.  But before he moves it, he looks at you, eyebrow raised in question.

Taking a deep breath, you reach one of your hands up to slide the comforter down yourself, resting just below your hips.  Yoongi’s eyes follow, his hands still on the comforter. When you stop, his knuckles press just above your venus mound. You almost whimper.

“Really?” there's lilt in his voice.

“You’re going to suck face with all our friends but stop here with me? After you call out my name?” Yoongi’s hand tightens in the fabric  and you wish you could see the way his veins protrude from the back of his hand.

“Pissing me off. Staring me down. Melting my resolve.”

You blink up. Melting his resolve? He’d made no hint. No hint that he’d wanted you the way you’d wanted him. Even after you told him your feelings, he’d shut it down. You’d wondered why he watched you. Each time you filled the void of him with someone else, his jaw tightened. His eyes turned cold. You’d thought he was mocking your feelings, how obvious what you were doing was, but instead…

“Yoongi,” the whine seeps into your tone. Yoongi’s eyebrows twitch in attention,  focusing on you again.  Those cat eyes, always curious yet decisive.  You roll your shoulders, back aching on the wooden floor. You move your hands back down under the covers, passing under the weight of Yoongi’s fist.

Your chest rises as you touch yourself in front of him, then shudders out as your hardened nipples rub against your pajama top. He watches the way the fabric moves around your waist as your arm moves back and forth. He releases the comforter, running a hand over the length of your exposed body, just feather-light touches barely detected under your pajama top.

It felt too good. His gaze, always cold as you touched someone else, now ablaze as you stared up at him, touching only yourself to the thoughts of what he might do next.

Feeling braver, drawn on by the fire burning in you as soon as your fingers traced through your folds, you shimmy the blanket down farther. It stops at your thighs.  “Help me,” your voice comes out as nothing but a whisper.

Yoongi chuckles. “You don’t look like you need any help.” You huff, ready to retort. But Yoongi waves his hand, pointing to you as the director of this show. You fling the cover over your legs and feel a sense of pride when you see Yoongi’s Adam's apple bob, surprised to find you nude from the waist down. When you spread your legs a little wider, his tongue swipes over his bottom lip.

“Touch me, bastard,” you hiss out.  You can’t believe you’re saying this. You can’t believe that he’s doing it, a firm hand on your hips.

“I like that dirty mouth of yours,” Yoongi mutters. You lick your lips. You want his dirty mouth. The stale smell of beer and cigarettes somehow intoxicating when mixed with his gentle scent of fresh pine and your shared laundry detergent. His palm rubs over your thigh, sliding down, but bypasses your sopping core.  Your fingers roll languidly over your entrance as the back of Yoongi’s hand dances up your stomach, between your breasts, and flicks off your chin. “Been thinking about what it would be like,  to finally shut you up.” He taps your chin. “Fill you up so you can’t stuff someone else’s tongue down your throat.”

You shiver despite your shock. “But you-” you can’t even get a word out before Yoongi pops his thumb in your mouth, holding your tongue down. Your jaw slackens at the taste, salty yet bitter from the tobacco.

“You sure know how to ruin a good thing, don’t you?” Yoongi’s head cocks to his other shoulder, his body moving the slightest bit closer to you. His thumb rubs circles against your taste buds. Your fingers mimic the motion over your clit, wishing they were his.

And he knows you’re wishing.

“Just couldn’t take no for an answer, could you?” He presses harder and your jaw strains. “Had to run around and fuck with my friends.” His other fingers come to grip your chin as your eyes start to roll. Jealous, he was jealous. The knowledge warms the pit of your stomach.

Yoongi shakes his head, an irritated smirk on his face. Your core tightens just at the flash of teeth.  “Testing my limits. And then I had to come home and hear you fucking moaning my name. ” Yoongi removes his hand from your mouth. You aren’t sure what he wants. To say his name again? To keep going?

Before you can make a decision, his arm comes down on the other side of your shoulder and he’s close, so close. The fringe of his hair tickles your forehead. His eyes, only inches from yours, gleam with annoyance.

“Even after running through all my friends,” he looks down in between you, your chest rising and falling faster and faster. “You still couldn’t take no for an answer, you greedy slut.”

The name punches your gut. A whimper passes your lips which yearned to close the minuscule distance to his. But you couldn’t, didn’t dare after his insult. An insult, yet you craved another. To be reprimanded by him. To watch as he continues to break down and punish you for getting what you want.

He chuckles, taking in your wide-eyed expression. And then you can smell it. Something stronger than beer. The sweet smell of rum coasts over your skin. You want to see how much he drank, if the taste stained his lips.

Just as quickly, he pushes off. Not even granting you one kiss. He lounges back on both his palms now, legs kicked out in front of him.  All too casual to have a half-naked woman next to him.  Your hands have stalled at this point, more interested in the display next to you. You can make out the veins lacing up his forearms, Adam's apple highlighted in the glow from the door.

“All I wanted was a good roommate. And you had to go ruin it by catching feelings,” he sighs, brushing away the thought. “A couple months rent covered is better than just a quick fuck, you know.”

“Maybe-” your voice comes out broken, so you clear your throat. “Maybe it could be more than one fuck.”

Yoongi’s brows furrow, corners of his mouth dipping. “No.”

It hurts, and this time it’s a different feeling in your stomach. But Yoongi shrugs, lowering himself onto the floor next to you. He rolls onto his side, tucking an arm under his head for cushion. His other arm stretches over you, and soft fingers land on your lower stomach. Yoongi’s smile rises with the arch of your back.

“Tell me,” he says, voice a low rumble. “Did you want it to be me when you kissed Tae?”

“Yes,” you answer immediately, head rolled to the side to look at him. He scoffs.

“Touch yourself.”

Your cheeks burn in the dark. T o have him say it again, inches away, voice so confident. You roll your shoulders, not taking your eyes off him, and start to run your fingers through your folds again.

“Do you wish it was me?”

“Mm-hm,” you sigh, closing your eyes, imagining the fingers across your stomach just sliding down to replace your own.

“Do you wish it was me whenever you fuck someone else?”

You whine, shame and excitement mixing together behind your eyes. You want him to call you names again. You want him to put you in your place. Climb on top of you and pin you down so you can’t run to someone else.

“What are you thinking?”

“I-” your voice stops in your throat. You open your eyes. Yoongi’s got that same slanted smile on his face, eyes lazily focused down your body. When you don’t finish, he looks back up, unashamed to be caught. His smile only grows wider.

Fingers dig into your hip and pull you close. Again, you’re inches from Yoongi’s face, the edge of the futon crumpled between you. He leans in. You tilt your head forward. His lips graze yours, and you can hear yourself gasp. His hand loosens on your hip, palm flat against your abdomen as finally,  _ finally _ , he moves your hand and replaces it with his own.

His touch is rougher than you imagined. Purposeful, direct. You lean forward, ready to close the distance, but he cranes his neck back, hooded eyes filled with mirth as your puckered lips go unattended.

“So greedy,” he teases, chuckling again when you pout. He draws firm, deliberate circles around your clit. You curl your fingers into Yoongi’s shirt. He alternates between swift strokes and languid dips to your entrance.

It’s everything yet not enough.

“Yoongi,” you whine, pulling the wad of shirt in your fist. He just laughs, unrelenting to give you anything you want.

“Say it again,” he commands, and you do. His name falls off your lips as he tips you closer to the edge but never over, knees jerking back and forth each time your close. He revels in how you give yourself away, desperate for contact and quaking under his hand.

“Please,” you finally manage, eyes watering at the corners. No man has ever done this. They’ve made you orgasm multiple times but never denied you quite like this.  Not like Min Yoongi.

“There’s your manners,” he coos.

“Please,” you try again when you hear the delight in his voice. “Please, Yoongi, please.”

He seems to give, and you’ve finally found the key. He dips two fingers inside you, palm flattening over your clit, and rocks his hand at a dangerous speed. His smile grows crooked with amusement when your body seizes up and you claw at his arm as your feet curl off the floor. Your jaw locks in a silent cry when your orgasm rocks through you. You stutter out cries and your legs quake as Yoongi grips you tight, fingers curled. 

You don’t want it to end, but it’s too much. Eventually, you're digging your nails into his arm, begging for him to release you. He finally concedes, withdrawing from you and tracing your curves with his wet, sticky fingers. Your body falls limp, panting into Yoongi’s mouth still only an inch from yours.

You both stare at each other. You’re pleased to see that he is a little breathless, too. His dark eyes are still hooded under shaggy bangs, but the mocking glint is gone.  And when he leans in to kiss your forehead, he gingerly holds your side for a moment before pulling away.

Before you can consider what’s happened, sum up the situation, he’s rolling away. He pushes up and gets to his feet. Yoongi looks down at you, you and your futon both a mess, with an unreadable expression, then heads out your door.  You hear a click as he closes it completely behind him. You are back in the moonlit room alone.

You pull the covers up over your head and roll over.  _ Greedy slut _ , your mind sings the words to you. A smile graces your lips as you choose to sink into sleep than grapple with the situation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You confront Yoongi about his actions and his rejections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I never planned to write a sequel but I wanted to get really dirty and subby so here we go.

“Please,” you gasp. Yoongi’s fingers work deep inside of you. They curl, scissor, stretch, and tantalize your walls. The sounds are muted, no gasps, not even the sound of him breathing. Just the sensation, just the burning of Yoongi’s eyes watching you like he did that night. “Please, please, more.”

Yoongi’s dry laugh echoes in your skull. “Beg for it.”

“Yoongi,” the words are lost in your throat. Everything in your being pools south, desperate for release. But it’s not deep enough, starting to feel like a phantom touch. Your fingers curl in the sheets. “Yoongi, please.”

“No,” Yoongi says suddenly. The rejection is sharp but fading. Familiar. Like the familiarity of the sensation between your thighs rapidly disappearing, the shock of his denial pulling you back to…

Reality.

You groan, opening your eyes.

Again, fucking again. Or should you say,  _ not _ fucking again.

You roll over, cracking your back from another night on the barren floor. No orgasm, no Yoongi. You fumble for the sheets and wrap them around you before throwing them back with an angry huff.

In just an oversized T-shirt, you plod down the stairs to Yoongi’s living room. Your anger releases with each stomp onto the cold, wooden stairwell. Fuck Yoongi. Fuck that asshole. Fuck, you want to fuck him so bad.

Said asshole sits on the couch, already dressed. It’s a weekday, so he must be heading out. Usually, he’d grunt or comment on your lack of pants or tell you if there was any coffee left. That is, before last week. 

The new normal is his silence. You are honestly surprised he didn’t take off. Your sexually frustrated footsteps gave enough warning. He doesn’t even acknowledge you as he scrolls on his phone. The day after he’d crawled into bed next to you, brought you to climax with nothing but his voice and deft hands, he told you to move out. The next fucking day. Of course, you’d only been staying at his place while you look for something more permanent. But the fucking nerve of him.

On top of that, he hasn’t talked to you since. He won’t even look at you. No teasing in the morning. Not even a scoff at you trying to fuck around with Taehyung again. Not that he had answered any more of your texts after that night. None of them had talked to you, really. That only irked you more. All you had were these stupid dreams that left you as on edge as the man himself.

You don’t know what to do. You can’t move out yet because you haven't found a place. You felt uncomfortable and anxious at home during the day. He skidded around you like your mere present released stench he couldn’t handle. Yoongi is always so close, yet so far away. Anytime you tried to talk, to ask about what happened, why you had to move out, why he wouldn’t touch you again, he stayed silent. Those blank, judging eyes would give you a moment of attention before flitting elsewhere.

It pisses you off. You’d rather get  _ some _ kind of response than nothing. Anger, dejection, something other than that blank expression. Exactly, something. Something is better than nothing. Slamming the milk down on the counter, you whirl on him in the living room. “I’m going to hang out with Jin and fuck his massive dick today.”

Yoongi glances over at you, a bit startled, then turns back to his phone. “Yeah, okay, good luck with that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, hands on your hips. You’re more pissed at his nonchalance. Nothing. You want a rise. You want to piss him off like you’re pissed off. You want to dangle yourself in front of him until he bites.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Yoongi drones in that monotonous voice he uses when he wants to show his disinterest. “Might have told all my friends they are cancelled if they keep fucking you like the house whore.”

Your jaw drops. That explains your empty and on-read messages from the boys. “Are you fucking serious?”

“You don’t want it anyway,” Yoongi’s shoulders shrug over the edge of the couch.

“Yeah, but it’s not like you are giving it to me!”

Yoongi stands with a heavy sigh, turning to face you. His face is cold. His words made you think there might be a hint of jealousy. Instead, it’s disdain. “It’s not quite fair to them, is it?”

“Bull shit,” you sneer. ”Everyone knows I want to fuck you. They know what we do is just a fuck. We’re all on the same page because I’m a good communicator, Yoongi. Unlike you, who fucking left me on in-real-life-read after finger fucking me.”

Yoongi licks his lips, hands grabbing at his sides. Your honesty takes him off guard. Good, you smirk. Finally, something. He takes a step forward but stops. He doesn’t respond. 

“You’re just scared,” you grit out, getting in his space now that he moved closer. Egging him on. You want something. Maybe even closure. If he isn’t going to touch you, to fuck you, to fucking  _ kiss _ you, you want him to be straight or at least make it hurt so bad you won’t want to keep wondering.

Yoongi scoffs, stepping around the couch to face you. “Or I’m practical.”

“Is that what you call this?” You say with a laugh, waving around his place. “Acting like a mute and scurrying about anytime I come around. Practical?”

“It’s for the best,” Yoongi’s eyes burn as he speaks through his teeth. Yoongi’s so close, and you can smell him. The scent that lingered in your sheets only for a night. Different than the one within the whole home. “Plus, you already fucked-”

“Why does it bother you that I sleep with all your friends?” You shout, throwing your arms in the air. You hope he steps forward again. “It only started because  _ you _ won’t fuck me!”

“What?” Yoongi asks, but it doesn’t even register, now you’re mad.

“What does it matter if I’m a slut?” You’re toe-to-toe now. The closest you’ve both been. “You don’t-”

“I love that you’re a slut,” Yoongi murmurs, staring at the counter behind you.

“You…” you don’t think you heard that right. “You what?”

Yoongi straightens his shoulders. He looks at you properly and repeats, slowly, “I love that you’re a dirty, filthy slut.”

“Yoongi,” you whisper. Is this shock? Relief? Confusion? Maybe all three. His eyes dart between yours, wide and compelling. A desire, a question there like you saw that night, even though he said no. You lean in closer, his lips so close to yours, finally.

Yoongi chuckles, taking a step back. It’s suddenly much colder and the familiar smell of the house is all that’s before you again. His voice is dark, laced with condescending, as he says, “You think I’d put my lips on that filthy mouth?”

The words should shame you, but instead, you find your heart racing.

You’re wrenched back by the hair of your head, breath hissing through your teeth at the sudden pain. Yoongi eyes you again, expression now cold, schooled. “You want me to kiss you?”

“Yes,” you plead, unable to look straight with the way he’s gripping your hair. You can feel your heart thumping in your windpipe.

“Too bad,” Yoongi shrugs. “I don’t kiss dirty sluts.”

“Yoongi,” you gasp, shocked at the words coming from his mouth but incredibly turned on. Because to you it sounds annoyed. Annoyed that you’ve been with his friends and not him. Annoyed and aroused by what a slut you are.

Yoongi notices the warming of your cheeks. He smirks. “Do you like for me to deprive you? Talk shit?”

You can’t say anything. You do. Fuck, you do. You want him to keep going.

“Why?” Yoongi asks, craning his head to the side to get a good look at you. “Am I the only one to say no to you? To not drop my pants for that pussy? Lord knows how hard you try.”

“Fuck,” you whine, feeling guilty but also hoping Yoongi’s gotten off to that very thought.

“What are you going to do about it?” Yoongi asks, voice teasing. “How far would you go? To prove it’s worth it to kiss those filthy lips of yours.”

“As far as it takes,” you try to sound confident but the whine, the need slips into your voice. You drop to your knees immediately. You know how to prove yourself. And really, you just want to touch him. Any part of him. You’ve been deprived a week since you had him dangling in front of your face. You are a slut for cock, especially Yoongi who not only plays hard to get but you have a legitimate crush on. 

“You still wanna suck my dick after how I’ve treated you?” Yoongi scoffs, hand dropping from your hair as you fall. But there’s a slight rise in his voice, something that almost sounds… guilty. Anger and guilt and a slight bulge in his jeans. You want to figure it out. You want him to keep talking about just let it out and give you enough words to decipher what the fuck is going on.

But he walks away. You can see the swivel of his hips as he turns from you, rejecting your offer. Your plea. Your entire throat burns as he turns from you. Fuck, you are desperate. You look at the floor, welling the tears to not spill over. You are not going to cry over rejection, it’s the pain in your knees from hitting the floor. You’re going to-

“Take your clothes off.”

Yoongi takes in your expression. You stare dumbfounded from the floor, whiplashed from thinking he was leaving you hanging again. “Take your clothes off.”

Your mouth falls open, eyes wide as they meet him again. “What?”

He cocks an eyebrow, now leaning back to settle into the couch better.

“Are you… serious?” You ask, even though you already fiddle with the hem of your shirt.

“Yes.”

“Am I going to take my clothes off, and you’re going to walk out?” You ask, your dreams flitting back to you.

A smile flashes across Yoongi’s expression with a disbelieving shake of the head before he schools himself. “Is that what you’d think I’d do? Is that the kind of guy you’re into?”

There he goes again, throwing your feelings in your face, but you can’t stop. You want to be naked before him again. Want to see those daring eyes on you, and you only. “Seems so.”

“Are you fucking for real right now?” Yoongi leans forward and keeps leaning. You nod. You are. As pissed as you are, your rage was and continues to be driven by the lack of Yoongi. The lack of his explanation. The lack of touch. The lack of interest. The need after wanting for so long overpowers any rational to save some dignity and get off the floor. You’d grovel for that cock, that man. You will.

He leans until you’re able to differentiate the brown from the black of his irises. “Do you want me to point out what a fucking slut you are for me and fucking shame you right here in our living room?”

Your mouth dries as Yoongi spreads his legs and drapes his arms over the sides of the couch. He cocks his head, looking all the part of a man in charge. The silence stretches on, nothing but tension filling the air.

“Yes,” you croak, licking your lips, willing something off your tongue to move things along. You do. God, the word slut coming out of Yoongi’s mouth sounds more like high praise than anything else. Yes, you’re a fucking slut. You want to be  _ his _ slut.

Another flicker in Yoongi’s eyes, a twitch of his smile. He relaxes, ready for a show. “Well, come on then. Is your head pumped full of cum or some shit? Take your clothes off or leave.”

Your cheeks burn. The acknowledgment of your actions, the fact that most of his friends’ cocks have been in your mouth, sends a hot shiver through you. More than that, he gave you an out. You can leave. But why the fuck would you?

As you lift your shirt over your head, you keep your eyes on Yoongi, for any sign of a reaction. Nothing. Somehow, that makes you burn hotter. You tease the line of your panties, dipping your fingers under and over the material, before pulling them down your legs.

You stand in the living room, completely naked, before Yoongi, fully clothed. He raises a lazy finger, making a twirling motion. As you turn, he adjusts a bit in his seat, the only giveaway that you are definitely affecting him in some way.

“Not too bad,” he hums as you face front. He stands, and you immediately have the desire to drop to your knees again. He takes two steps back into your space, eyes traveling down your bare figure. You’re warm, so warm, and you want his warmth to burn you up.

But again, he hovers. Just barely there. Mouth so close to yours, skilled fingers drifting over your sides. His cock bulges in his jeans and your heart races with excitement. It’s prominent now. You reach out, wanting to tug him in, to take off his clothes, too.

“Don’t touch,” the words are low in his throat. They freeze your body, scared to move and have him disappear. Your eyes dart up to his, but he’s still languidly observing your form. “So fucking greedy all the time.”

“For you,” you whisper, hands dropping back to your sides.

“Is that so?” Yoongi smirks, dark eyes peering into yours. “Is that what you think about when you fuck my friends? Were you going to ride Jin’s dick but think about me?”

“Yes,” you answer immediately. They were as much a distraction as they were a replacement. A replacement for Yoongi. And this Yoongi, who hasn’t even touched you, already leaves you devastated. He could never be replaced, you already knew that. But this, this dominating and degrading version of him, spurred on by irritation or not, is so much more than you could have ever asked for.

“You looked pretty on your knees before,” Yoongi says, eyebrows raised as though it’s already a distant memory. Your breath hitches at the first compliment. Eager for more, you drop down again, nose barely brushing the fabric of his pants. It takes everything in you not to mouth at his cock through his jeans, torn between being just as greedy as he says but also willing him to reward your good behavior.

Hands comb through your hair as Yoongi looks down at you. You lean into the touch, something like relief flooding from your scalp and down the nerves of your spine. Tentatively, you trace your hands up the back of his thighs, looking for balance on your legs that are shaky with anticipation. 

You yelp as the sting of wrenched hair replaces the earlier relief.

“What did I say about those needy, grubby hands of yours?” Yoongi growls above you.

You blink a few times, tears building at the pain, and lock your hands behind you in a tight grasp, wanting to show you can listen. You look up, hoping your large, pleading eyes convince him.

“Fuck,” Yoongi sighs. “Look at you.”

You almost preen at that. Especially when Yoongi’s brows furrow as you smile wider. It almost looks… pained.

Before you can understand it, Yoongi lets go, waiting to see if you move, then finally, finally reaches for the button of his pants. Your mouth salivates, zeroing in on the fingers that were deep inside you a week ago now dropping the zipper. Yoongi shuffles his briefs and pants down in one go.

His cock, thick and hard, frees from its confines. The flushed head teases you as it bobs before your mouth, the soft, velvet skin ribbed with veins that pulse with arousal you instigated.

You lick your lips, mouth suddenly dry at the thought of finally getting what you want. You glance up at Yoongi’s cocked eyebrow, wondering if you can please him. You drop your jaw, eyes closed, ready to take him as deep as possible, to fill you up and leave you gasping.

“Nuh uh,” Yoongi taunts, drawing his dick back from your eager mouth. He slaps the head against your cheek, and you whimper at the touch that isn’t enough. The wet dab of precum litters your cheek as he smacks the head against your cheek again and again. “You think I’m just going to let you have it? I don’t care about that dick game you flaunt.”

His stronger grip is back in your hair as he bends over, blown eyes inches from yours, hot breath fanning over your face from lips you still haven’t touched. “I just want to use that hot mouth of yours.”

Your eyes almost rollback at the thought. But Yoongi jostles you, keeping you focussed.

“You’re going to fucking take it like the dirty slut you are,” he growls, and you nod quickly. “And if it’s too much, you’re going to use those greedy little hands to squeeze my thighs.”

You blink at that, mind coming into focus. The dark eyes, filled with nothing but disdain and arousal moments before, are suddenly murky with a certain kind of concern. He’s making sure you’ll be okay. Your heart swells in your already tight chest.

“Okay,” you whisper, swallowing. You hear your throat stick together. 

“Useless,” Yoongi scolds, straightening a bit. You look up, neck craning back to hold his gaze. When you try to wet your lips, Yoongi lifts a brow. “Need a filthy mouth to match a filthy whore.”

You watch his tongue roll in his mouth, cheeks hollow out before Yoongi grips your jaw. Your lips part, sighing at the pain from his grip. Your eyes almost fall shit until you see Yoongi lean forward, lips pursed and shiny with spit.

The spit dribbles out, slow, pooling at the end of a translucent string, then falls off his lips and onto your own. He fucking spit in your mouth. The slick of his spit slips over your bottom lip, onto your tongue, and immediately your mouth is watering for more. You smack your lips before opening wide. You let Yoongi watch you roll your tongue around your mouth, making sure it’s good and wet for him. Maybe he’ll do it again. God, you hope he will.

“Goddamn,” Yoongi breathes, his voice suddenly not as calm, sounding much more affected. But, of course, almost like he catches himself, he releases your jaw and straightens up. Two fingers plunge into your mouth, roughly smearing his own spit with your own. You moan, his fingers tasting like the coffee he made this morning. “That’s good enough.”

You nod, eyes pricking from how he tugged at your jaw. You can’t wait for it to ache, tears streaming down your face, as his cock hits the back of your throat. “Please, Yoongi. Give it to me. Anything.”

“ _ Anything?” _ Yoongi asks, mocking your voice in an obnoxiously high whine. You nod excessively. You mean it. Yoongi rolls his shoulders with a deep sigh like giving you what you want is such a bother for him. But you know better. The rock in his pants betrays him.

“Keep those hands behind you unless you can’ take it,” he reminds you, busy with his cock.

“I will,” you say, hoping that your words will have his attention on you. As you straighten your shoulders and your tits bounce, he gives you one last glance. The hand on his cock stutters.

“And,” Yoongi clears his throat, not looking at you anymore, seemingly more occupied with his cock. “And don’t forget to squeeze if you… if you can’t handle it, slut.”

Before you can respond, question what compelled the sudden soft edge in his tone, the velvet head of his cock presses against your lips, but only for a second. Yoongi wastes no time, pushing back, your jaw and lips stretching around him as he eases back in a little too quickly. You gasped for breath, clenching your hands firmly behind you as Yoongi continued to press his cock into the back of your throat.

“God, look at you,” he grunts, rubbing your nose against his stomach. The force of his cock caused your mouth to salivate over and over, eyes welling with tears, and you groaned as the drool slipped from your lips. Your jaw hung slack as he continued to fuck your mouth, dragging your head back to meet his hips with a painful grip in your hair. The searing from your scalp only egged on the aching between your thighs, desperate for the same rough attention elsewhere.

“What’s it like to drool over this cock?” Yoongi’s gruff voice sounds from above. You opened your eyes, trying to keep them from rolling back at the flushed cheeks and swollen lips that meet your gaze. You whine, the sound stuttered by his thrusts filling your throat. “Bet you love it. Love this dick. Been dreaming about it, I hear the way you call my name. So needy you’ll put anything in your mouth to get your fill.”

You whimper, hips shifting, desperate for any friction like the needy whore he says you are. “You think Taehyung would fuck you like this?”

You wanna shake your head, but his grip is too tight. “You think Jin could fuck you like this?”

You try to shake your head again and fail. You tighten your lips, letting your useless tongue press against the underside of his cock. You love the way he groans, surprised by your attempts to please him, to be more than just a face to fuck.

“Goddamn,” Yoongi groans. He glances back down, both hands now in your hair thrusting you down onto his cock. “I see the way you watch me. You like me? Please,” he groans again as you swallow down air, “you  _ want _ me. Then you go and fuck someone else like a desperate little whore. But I know. You know. Only I can fuck you like this.”

He pulls you back and you gasp for air, unaware of your throbbing skull as you eventually opted to just stop breathing all together to keep taking it.  _ Only he can fuck you like this _ . And shit, is he right because even as his cock bobs before you, red from the grinding against the back of your throat, you want it deep inside you instead. So desperate. Such a slut for him.

“What’s it like, everything you dreamed of when you’re being a sneaky little slut right across the hall?” Yoongi taunts, wagging his cock in front of your face again. You swallow, throat already sore, but can’t help diving in for more. Yoongi drops to the sofa instead, dragging you with him by your hair. You brace, hands coming to the couch for support.

Yoongi pauses. He watches your hands, waits to see if they’ll move to his thighs and squeeze. You wouldn’t dare. Instead, you close your eyes and open your mouth wide.

“Please. Yes, it’s everything, please.”

Yoongi scoffs. You open your eyes to see him chuckling silently. He catches your eyes and tries to school his face into a mock pout. “Please, please. Trying to use manners now?”

You aren’t sure what to do. Nod? Shake your head? What will get his cock in you fastest?

“You’ll do anything for this dick,” Yoongi laughs, fisting over his cock, glistening from your mouth. You want to take over, show him what a good fuck you can be, but you don’t. You watch as Yoongi fists himself. “Bet you want this fat cock deep in your pussy, huh?”

Dear god, your knees buckle at the offer. Your fingers dig into the couch, remembering how you touched yourself for him. You let go, taking hold of your breasts, trying to tease him. Your words escape you, all rational thought consumed by the idea of Yoongi fucking you. “Can you? Please? Please Yoongi?”

“Hmm…” Yoongi hums. “That’s nice. Finally some respect. Say it again.”

You grab at your breasts, rolling your nipples between shaky fingers. Throwing your head back, you try your best to tempt him, letting the arousal coat your voice as you whine, “Please, please fuck me Yoongi, please. Oh, Yoongi.”

But he laughs. It’s a throaty, deep-chested laugh filled with glee. Your cheeks burn as you look forward, hands dropping. “God, you’ll do anything for dick.”

“Your dick,” you clarify, eyes stinging. 

“Really?” Yoongi asks, leaning forward, you almost lean back, scared of the anger boiling in his eyes, even with his cock inches from his own chin as he closes in on you. He grabs your chin, giving it a rough shake. “Then why are you willing to take any cock that pops up for you?”

“Because I can’t have you,” you whine. And it’s true. They are all replacements. Replacements for your sultry and aloof roommate who won’t pay you any attention. “You only care if I’m with them.”

“Don’t use such soft language,” Yoongi snaps. “With them? You’re fucking them. On your knees. Your back.”

“But I want you,” you try again, feeling the tears really sting. This, this one thing, you need him to believe.

Something flashes there. Pity, sympathy, pleasure, something. Yoongi releases your jaw and leans back, arms spread on the couch once again, this time his hard cock standing tall… because of you.

“Really?” He asks, eyebrow cocked.

You nod quickly, shuffling closer.

“Tell me,” he says. “What did you think about when you were fucking all my friends.”

“You,” you rush out, tentatively reaching forward to take Yoongi’s cock in your hand. You almost sigh in relief. Touching him. “I thought about you. Pissing you off. Making you mad. Any way to have you thinking of me.” You lean forward, licking along the shaft. You praise his cock with your mouth as much as you do the man with your words. “Thought about how your cock might compare. What you’d do if you were under me, over me, behind me.”

You stop, hoping it’s enough, taking him in your mouth once more. Compared to his brutal thrusts, you’re slow, apologetic. And Yoongi accepts it. The hand in your hair is gentler, teasing with soothing circles as he lets you suck his cock.

“Only me, huh?” Yoongi asks. “Running around being a slut all because you’re a brat for this dick?”

You moan, pumping faster on his cock. Yes. Yes.

“You want me to cum in that filthy mouth of yours?” Yoongi purrs, fingers scratching in your hair lightly. You nod on his cock, pumping faster and faster and faster. Yoongi groans and it only spurs you on. He grits out, “Bet you’d like that.”

You whine, tongue laving over the underside. But then, you are yanked off, that now familiar pull. Your eyes open, shocked and betrayed, mouth still open, bottom lip dragging over the head of Yoongi’s cock. He takes his cock in his other hand, a smirk twisted with ecstasy as he pumps up.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Yoongi gasps between hitches of breath. “Don’t think I don’t know you. You want this. You want to lose this more than you want to have it.”

Desire burns in your stomach, so strong you think if you slink your hand between your thighs just once you may achieve sweet release, but you’re too busy focusing on the man crooning above you and the cock tapping against your lips with each stroke. You’re amazed, amazed at how he enraptures you and knows you all while denying you.

“Fuck,” Yoongi grunts, eyes squinting closed and throat bobbing. You open your mouth wider, knowing what’s coming. His semen coats your tongue, your cheeks, causes your eyes to close as it spurts over your lashes. 

His release is almost as sweet as your own, finally being the reason to hear him so wrecked, lost in pleasure. You can’t help but lap up anything your tongue can reach, desperately reaching for his head only to be tugged away. You moan with him, whimper and whine as you taste but can’t touch, fingers obediently staying on the couch.

Eventually, he simmers down. His eyes never leave your face, even as you greedily eye his cock or look for more cum on your face. And what replaces his expression of disdain puzzles you.

“Fuck, you are filthy,” Yoongi chuckles, but it’s not the same tone as before. It’s almost in awe. You find yourself smiling, as though it’s praise. He leans forward, wiping some of his cum above your eyebrow and watching as you lick it off his fingers. “This is what you want? What you like?”

You nod eagerly. Yes. Definitely. This is what you want. You wanted Yoongi, but this… this is something you didn’t know you needed. Now you want him more than ever.

“You’d rather me talk shit than hear about how I sucked anything left of you off my fingers as soon as I left your room?”

Your eyes go wide, fingers traveling to his thighs to dig into the flesh, begging to hear more.

“You don’t want to hear about how I couldn’t even fucking look at you without wanting to rip your clothes off and mark you in places only I could see?” Yoongi purrs, leaning closer.

You nod faster. Then shake your head erratically. You aren’t sure how to answer. You want both. You want all of it. And you hope your need shines in your eyes, in the rosy redness of your cheeks. “That, yes, any of it. You, Yoongi. I want you.”

You can only see Yoongi’s mouth as he whispers more thoughts about you. Ones of wanting you. He wants you. You start to close your eyes, leaning in, ready for a kiss. Finally, finally a kiss.

“Okay,” Yoongi says. Once again, you are graced only with the touch of his breath. He pulls back, and you finally latch onto his thighs, squeezing hard. No, not again. He can’t leave again. You feel the tears well in your eyes. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of your nakedness, how desperate you are in such a bad, shameful way, as Yoongi pulls back, that blank expression molding back into those black eyes that looked hopeful only moments ago.

“Woah, hey,” Yoongi’s hands are on yours. They feel so warm and comforting it’s shocking.

“Don’t,” your voice isn’t as strong as you want. It already sounds wet. “Don’t you dare fucking get off this couch and tell me to get the fuck out or I swear to god I will bite your dick off.”

Yoongi’s jaw drops, lower half visibly receding into the couch. Then, his eyes crinkle with laughter, his lips pulled tight between his teeth when you get genuinely angry. 

“Okay,” he says, thumbs rubbing over the back of your hands. “I’m… We’ll… talk about this.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think in the comments or [ my tumblr Joopiterjoon ](https://joopiterjoon.tumblr.com/)


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